


just as the earth needs the skies

by cosmic_llin



Category: Holby City
Genre: Episode Tag, F/F, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 09:17:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11756733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmic_llin/pseuds/cosmic_llin
Summary: Bernie takes the Eurostar.





	just as the earth needs the skies

St Pancras is busier than Bernie had expected for a weekday morning, but then it is the summer holidays. It’s been so rainy and she’s been so preoccupied that she’s barely even noticed it’s summer. She’s not sure she even remembers spring happening.

She weaves her way through the crowds, trying not to smack people with the battered duffel bag on her shoulder. Everything she wants or needs is in that bag. Everything she wants or needs that she can carry, anyway. After all, that’s why she’s going.

She’s pretty sure she’s not going back to the flat that never quite felt like home. She hasn’t even told her landlord, or packed anything away, and at some point that’s going to become a problem but for right now all she can do is follow the invisible thread pulling her southward.

She follows it through the electronic ticket barriers and into the departure lounge, where it becomes clear from the mouse hats and princess dresses and screaming that a large party of children is going to Disneyland. Normally this would start to grate on her after a while, but now she can barely even take it in. Her eyes are fixed on the departure board, waiting for her platform to be announced. When the number flashes on the screen, she gets up, hurries to the train, even though there’s plenty of time before it departs.

It’s almost five hours to Lyon, and there’s an hour on a local train after that. Bernie hasn’t even brought a book to read, so she lies back, closes her eyes and listens to the rhythm of the train as they leave London and speed down towards the coast. It sounds like it’s saying _Serena, Serena, Serena, Serena_. They move from daylight into the darkness of the Channel Tunnel, and she thinks about her empty trauma bay, the ghosts of all their victories and defeats there.

After a while they emerge on the French side, bursting into sunshine, and Bernie smiles. At least they’re in the same country again, even if there are still hours to go. She takes out the postcard, reads it again even though she must have memorised the whole thing by now.

She didn’t bring a book – or a toothbrush, she suddenly realises – but she has got the biggest jar of Marmite she could get her hands on. Probably not that romantic but it’s not as if there’d be any point in bringing a bottle of wine.

The hours and the French countryside go by. Bernie’s heart beats faster the nearer they get. At Lyon she emerges from the platform onto the concourse, looks for a sign to tell her where she should catch the local train, and suddenly Serena is there, she’s right there, and Bernie lets out a shocked sob, and before she can think what to do Serena’s arms are around her, holding her so tight that she shouldn’t be able to breathe, but she can, it’s like she’s breathing properly for the first time in months. She drops her bag on the floor and wraps her arms around Serena too, as far as she can get them.

There are a thousand things Bernie should probably say. She should ask how Serena’s doing, for starters. Tell her she’s missed her.

‘They closed the trauma unit,’ she mumbles into Serena’s shoulder instead.

‘I know, I know,’ says Serena, stroking her hair. ‘I’m so sorry, Bernie.’

Neither of them lets go for a long time. Serena pulls away first, but it’s only so that she can hold Bernie at arms’ length and take a long, searching look at her. Bernie looks back. Serena’s tanned, and her face has lost some of that tight sadness it had for so long. She’s stopped dyeing her hair and it looks wonderful. She picks up Bernie’s duffel bag from the floor, slings it over her shoulder, and takes Bernie’s hand.

‘Come on,’ she says. ‘It’s this way.’

‘I thought… I didn’t know you’d be here to meet me,’ Bernie says.

Serena smiles, that smile Bernie loves that makes her eyes crinkle. ‘I didn’t either,’ she admits as she navigates them confidently down the concourse. ‘I was going to pick you up from the local train, but I couldn’t stand the thought of waiting any longer. Silly, really.’

‘Not silly at all,’ Bernie says.

Serena’s hand in hers is scraped, a little calloused, but it feels exactly like it always did.

They find the local train, get on it, sit in the quiet carriage as it rattles past vineyards and olive groves.

‘Do you know how long you’ll stay?’ Serena asks.

‘They haven’t given me an exact start date yet,’ Bernie says. ‘But they said probably a couple of months.’

‘And… what about after?’ Serena asks. ‘I mean, when you’re next on leave.’

Bernie looks down, takes Serena’s hand and rubs her thumb slowly over Serena’s knuckles. ‘Up to you,’ she says. ‘I’d like home to be wherever you are. But it’s up to you.’

Serena tilts Bernie’s chin up with her finger so that they’re looking into each other’s eyes. ‘I’d like that,’ she says.

Bernie nods, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

They get off the train at a little rural station, quiet enough that they’re the only ones disembarking.

‘There’s a taxi, if you like,’ says Serena, ‘but it’s a nice walk. Takes about three quarters of an hour.’

‘A walk sounds good,’ Bernie says.

Serena leads her out of the station and onto a narrow lane. Everything looks golden in the late-afternoon sunlight. The air is warm and still. Serena points out their destination in the distance, then starts to tell Bernie about the vineyards they’re walking past, the local wildlife.

‘You like it here,’ Bernie says, when she pauses.

Serena nods. ‘I do. It’s peaceful. I think that’s what I needed, for a while. And I’m not ready to go back yet, but I’m so glad you’re here.’

‘I’ve missed you so much,’ says Bernie.

‘I’ve missed you too,’ says Serena.

She stops walking, turns to face Bernie. The kiss starts slowly, as if they’re trying not to scare each other off, but then it’s like a spark catching, a bright flicker blossoming into a flame, and Serena’s pulling her closer, hands in her hair, and Bernie’s sliding her hands under the hem of Serena’s t-shirt because she can’t stand how much she’s missed touching her, and they stand in the middle of the lane and kiss until the sun goes down.


End file.
